


What Makes Him Tick

by diedofennui



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Barney snark, Creepy Chilton, Descriptions of gore, Dubious Consent, Fire, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Voyeurism, car crash, electrical torture (not of the mains), scene of an accident, stimulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diedofennui/pseuds/diedofennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the line in Silence of the Lambs about Chilton strapping a blood pressure cuff on Hannibal's penis to test his arousal level while viewing violent imagery: "He pretended to go along with the hospital director, Chilton - once in some tests - sitting around with a blood pressure cuff on his penis, looking at wreck pictures - then Lecter published first what he'd learned about Chilton and made a fool out of him."    </p>
<p>I know right? Only Hannibal could best someone after sitting around getting his cock squeezed for posterity. </p>
<p>I've obviously taken artistic liberties.</p>
<p>For my wonderful darling sku7314977, who lets me paddle around in her gloriously creative brain while she writes gorgeous things. And the co-author of one of my favorite stories ever "Bonded to Killers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glass Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sku7314977](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/gifts).



Will knew immediately that Hannibal had been drugged. It was in his eyes…heavy-lidded and sleepy, in the way that his head lolled slowly to the side upon Will’s arrival, those sleepy eyes turning to him in recognition and…what? Satisfaction? Satisfaction that Will was here to witness what he had chosen for Hannibal, that he would feel the shame and discomfort that he had brought upon his former friend?

“Will!” Chilton purred from a doorway across the room, “I’m so glad that you’ve made it before we begin. This little experiment is actually a collaboration between Hannibal and myself, isn’t that right?” Chilton looked in anticipation at the limp form propped in the middle of the floor, eyebrows raised expectantly, as if Hannibal were in some state to either agree or protest at this announcement. 

No answer forthcoming, Chilton turned again to Will. 

“Well. We never really know what mood our good doctor is going to be in from day to day. Today it appears “sullen” is the attitude of choice.” He gestured grandly to the array of medical gadgets spread out on the desk in their small glass room. “As you can see the doctor’s vitals are already being displayed on this screen due to the small medical sensors we have placed on various areas of his body. Heart rate, breathing rate, and to a lesser extant the activity in various parts of his brain will appear on our screens…” 

“Please get to the point Frederick. You know I have no desire to be here, and I can’t imagine that you have much of a desire to see me. So I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me why I’m here so I can leave.”

Chilton pursed his lips, humming noncommittally before looking back through the glass to Hannibal suspended in the center of the room. 

“We’re about to find out what really makes him tick,” Chilton announced with a self-satisfied accentuation of consonants. He bent his head toward a mic on the table by his side, “Go ahead!”

Will watched as the lights in the room with Hannibal were dimmed. Their own lights blazed on, illuminating slightly into the room beyond and casting a yellow glow on Hannibal’s still stationary form. 

Two white-suited orderlies entered the room, waiting for a nod from Chilton before moving toward Hannibal with slow deliberation. Will had the sudden realization that despite the vague dimness of the room beyond, their own little glass box would shine brightly enough that Hannibal could clearly see them inside. He swallowed, tilting his head to the side to crack his neck and expel some of the nervous energy he felt being in this place, being this close to Hannibal.

The orderlies appeared to be adjusting the straps that held Hannibal prone in the center of the room. He was standing, but barely, his wrist held away from his body and slightly above his head, allowing for some rotation of his wrists while still restricting movement. A leather harness of some kind bound around his stomach and over his shoulders, essentially keeping him upright under whatever cocktail of drugs Chilton had given him. 

His legs had been spaced widely, and around each ankle was another strap, securing his feet to the floor. The positioning of the whole apparatus allowed his body to hang lax, a slight bend to his knees as he allowed the straps to take most of his weight. 

Will’s discomfort only grew as he watched Hannibal’s body in profile, sagging as he never would have allowed himself to do in his former life. Will wondered if he had truly been defeated, had been ground down enough by isolation and drugs to have shed his former dignity. 

As if sensing the question, Hannibal’s head rotated slowly in the direction of the bright little room where Will stood frozen. Will glanced quickly toward Chilton, seeing if he noticed Hannibal’s new gaze in their direction. He didn’t. Rifling through his briefcase, he hummed contentedly under his breath, back to the sight of Hannibal’s face turned toward them. 

Will turned back to the glass and lifted his eyes, chin raised just slightly and tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. Hannibal raised his own face a moment later, his gaze steady as he focused on Will’s face, his eyes narrowing a little in what could only be pleasure. 

Whatever Chilton had planned, Will considered, it wasn’t going to work out the way he intended.


	2. Flip the Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dignity is so important I find,” he declared magnanimously. “These men so often have everything taken from them. Everything they know…have…gone. It’s not always their fault, of course, they are insane, even if criminally so.” He was staring at the screen now, the vague outside behind it. “I like to make sure they feel that they still have some semblance of privacy, even if it is an illusion.”

“Alright then!” Chilton declared with enough forced cheerfulness to make Will sick to his stomach. He bent toward the microphone, “If you will please make sure his apparatus is secure, and do mind his mouth, don’t want to lose any fingers today do we?” He turned to Will with an expression like a shark, all merry smile and promise. The effect was somewhat lessoned by Will’s awareness that there appeared to be a crusted blob of marinara sauce on Frederick’s widely knotted tie. He raised an eyebrow and stared at the morsel. Double Windsor knot these days too, can’t imagine where he got that style-inspiration. 

The two orderlies must have been long-term staffers, no reaction to Chilton’s upbeat gallows humor as they tugged experimentally on each black nylon strap, keeping a wide berth of Hannibal’s mouth nonetheless. Hannibal meanwhile had regained his louche slouch, tongue running minutely over the front of his teeth as if in consideration, otherwise, he hung motionless under the ministrations.

Will cleared his throat, uncomfortable under the additional realization that with Chilton’s mic switched on, Hannibal would be privy to every comment made in their little glass room. “I’m…” he began haltingly, “ I’m a little surprised that you do not have his, what do you call it…his face-piece on? As I recall I was considered worthy to wear it every time I was out for one of your fieldtrips.” He drew out the last word, pressing his mouth in a hard line and looking at Fredrick for some sort of denial that Will knew would not be forthcoming.

“Well, yes, we did think you might have a penchant for biting what with your distaste for being housed in our establishment. One never can be too careful, can one?” He tossed his head derisively in Hannibal’s direction, as if signaling a banal attraction on an otherwise interesting roadtrip. “Dr. Lecter there loves to take a nip now and then. We just need him unobstructed and cooperative this time.” He leaned down toward the mic, raising his voice unnecessarily, as if the room’s other occupant couldn’t already hear them, “Don’t we Hannibal?”

It was the first time that Will had heard the man use Hannibal’s first name since the trial and incarceration that had brought them all to this point. He hated it, the sound of it in Chilton’s mouth. It sounded intimate, and profane. A name spoken now just to taunt, to poke the predator that Chilton had managed to tame…or hoped he had. Will was unable to repress his sneer of distaste, but the man was oblivious, gazing beatifically through the glass to watch the orderlies make their last check of the ankle cuffs. 

Hannibal’s eyes had shifted only enough in their direction as Chilton and Will spoke on the other side of the partition. Dark eyes that watched Will’s distaste and drank it in like a man starved. Will very seldom came within visual distance of Hannibal, at least a visual distance that Hannibal shared. He knew that Will must have seen him through dark one-way mirrors for Frederick’s occasional parades of him for the psychiatric circles. They were rare, but not so rare that Frederick would allow his colleagues to forget that he held the monster within his very establishment. So rarely did Hannibal get to pin Will’s eyes with his own…and now Will held them, valiantly. 

“Lecter’s face hides so much Will, as you are well aware. Now that the Doctor is more, relaxed shall we say…

“Drugged,” Will interrupted.

“If you wish to be crude, yes, drugged.” Frederick’s eye’s narrowed, scenting Will’s reluctance to be here and enjoying every moment. He straightened his shoulders minutely, gaining confidence from Will’s lack thereof. “I don’t want us to miss anything. The mask would only limit the scope of our research.”

He stared at Will a moment as if lost in thought, then bent to the mic again, “On second thought gentleman,” he said imperiously, “let’s remove the camera. I would like both our guest and our charge to be relaxed and I think the additional audience might be impending that intent.”

“Additional audience Frederick, really?” Will snorted in disbelief.

“Not live of course!” protested Chilton, feigning hurt at the accusation. “An intended future audience only. But I can see you are uncomfortable, as I imagine our patient may be after he has recovered some of his faculties.” He straightened the food-smeared tie in a nervous gesture of impatience. “This will be an…unconventional study. Though not without precedent, I assure you. Dr. Lecter is well-aware of the parameters of my experiement, or I dare say he was an hour ago, now I imagine he doesn’t care where he is.” He gave a derisive snort, badly concealed by a hurried cough.  
“Okaaay, let’s continue shall we? Gentleman, you may arrange the screens and ready the Doctor please.” 

The two men left the room momentarily to return seconds later bearing two very different objects. One began to set up what was obviously an old-fashion viewing screen for a visual projector. An usual choice of technology but certainly dramatic, Will considered as he eyed the dimensions of the thing. Easily three times as large as what we be necessary for Hannibal to see the screen, taking up the majority of the wall space on one side. 

The other object puzzled him for a moment until the larger of the two orderlies unfolded it like a privacy screen, placing it between Hannibal and their vantage point, effectively blocking him from their sight. 

Chilton pursed his lips and glanced up at Will, “Dignity is so important I find,” he declared magnanimously. “These men so often have everything taken from them. Everything they know…have…gone. It’s not always their fault, of course, they are insane, even if criminally so.” He was staring at the screen now, the vague outside behind it. “I like to make sure they feel that they still have some semblance of privacy, even if it is an illusion.” 

“Is everything in place?” Chilton suddenly barked to the orderlies in the outer room. 

Will was sweating. He could feel a dampness beginning under his arms and hoped to god he had remembered to wear deodorant. That thought only brought another, of Hannibal standing close, so close, behind him, delicately scenting the air in a motion only felt and not seen by Will. He shut his eyes a moment, repressing a visceral shiver at the memory. The animal nature of the Doctor out to play and Will and not seen it for what it was. Possession.

There was a tear of Velcro from the other side of the screen and Will jumped at the sudden sound in the otherwise silent space. 

“Uhhh…” came the uncertain reply on the other side. “I’m having a little trouble securing the cuff on the prisoner sir?”

“Patient, Mr. Gray, Dr. Lecter is our patient.”

“Yes sir…I, I believe I have it secured for now. We may need to, uh…adjust the cuff as we proceed sir.”

“That is acceptable, thank you.” Chilton released a long whistling breath, scrunching his eyes in a long-suffering expression of exasperation, and flipped a switch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited that I've had so many readers for my first post! I know I'm teasing a bit here...a lot here...but not for much longer I assure you. ;) Thank you for reading, this is loads of fun!


	3. Splatter Footage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The projection had been paused on a mass of red pulp that Will did not want to decipher. It bathed the room in crimson, the white uniform of the orderly bloodly in the glare. Hannibal’s limp body was similarly awash in red. The slate blue jump suit had been removed to his hips, the thin undershirt the stretched over his chest rose and fell with each slow breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added some new tags here guys, so make sure you take note before you read.

Will leapt at the sudden unearthly shriek of metal grinding on medal, a sickening crunch of machinery. He whirled, scanning the ceiling frantically for some sign of the room collapsing around them. Frederick began to chuckle. “Whoopsies, my mistake. We’ll need to turn those lights off to see the screen.” The metallic grating stilled as abruptly as it had began, and instead the room began to fill with human cries, and the distinct crackling of fire.

The large outer room was flickered into darkness, and Will’s eyes drew to the immense, confusing blur of color that was now visible, projected onto the enormous screen the first orderly had drug in behind him. It was the scene of an accident, obviously amateur footage taken on a phone or mobile device. The hands holding the camera were shaking. A cacophony of voices screamed and mumbled in chorus. The camera dipped a moment, catching the shoes of the camera holder crunching over gravel and broken glass, drawing closer to the mangled wreck of what must have been a red sports car. The front end was in flames, and those frantic voices were screaming exactly what was flying through Will’s mind: “Get him out…move back…it’s going to explode…”

A high-pitched moaning originated from the car’s interior. Will took a gasping breath, wrenching his focus away to stare wide-eyed at Chilton, who was shuddering in mock horror, his grimace full of teeth.

“I don’t know if you think this is funny,” Will whispered through a clenched jaw, “but I’ve seen plenty of bodies Frederick, I don’t need your splatter footage.”

Chilton had the grace to look affronted. “I’m not showing them for your benefit Will I assure you. It’s for the benefit of the academic community as a whole. Specifically, as it relates to our friend out there.” He gestured vaguely with his chin. 

Will had temporarily forgotten the figure hidden behind the screen in the other room and glanced toward Hannibal’s outline with something like embarrassment.

“Nothing like some carnage in Technicolor to excite a sadist,” Chilton muttered. He turned to Will and whispered in an exaggerated sotto voce, “Our Dr. Lecter likes us to believe that he is above the petty urges of the flesh.” Chilton widened his eyes dramatically. “I’m going to prove otherwise” 

Will creased his forehead in confusion. “You brought me here to stare at broken bodies and watch Hannibal Lecter get…what…excited? Jesus!...This, this isn’t going to work. I don’t know why you’re bothering with this…parade of your incompetence.” 

He was laughing now, in both disbelief and his own growing unease. “What Hannibal does…what Hannibal did, it’s art –to him,” Will amended quickly. “He was not out there…God...getting his rocks off with corpses! All you’re doing is entertaining him with some sub-par blood loss and your own incompetence. This is ridiculous. It’s not going to work.”

Will knew he was flushed after this passionate declaration. White noise buzzed inside his head and the tips of his ears felt hot. Of all the things he expected when he walked into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, a study of Hannibal Lecter’s sexual functioning was not one of them.  
__________________

Dr. Chilton cleared his throat and offered a saccharine smile. “Thank you so much for your professional opinion Will. You are always so articulate when you’re uncomfortable. If you would like to take your leave, I suggest you do it now. Dr. Lecter was fully informed…well, somewhat informed, of what this experiment would entail. Your presence was a bit of a surprise I’m sure. But what better way to tempt the cat than with his very favorite mouse?” Chilton sucked at his teeth a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought. “He may even be inspired to perform shall we say?…We’ll just have to see.”

Will turned glassy eyes back toward the outer room. His instincts warred inside his brain. Should he leave now, spare Hannibal his dignity? Stay and make sure Chilton didn’t take it too far? If Will left now Frederick would likely set up his camera again for a permanent memento of Hannibal’s humiliation. He would share it with colleagues, with Jack, hell, he’d probably send it to Tattlecrime. No. Will was staying. Maybe Hannibal didn’t deserve Will’s generosity, but there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. And this was one of them. 

He closed his eyes a moment, steadying himself, knowing that Chilton was enjoying his obvious discomfort. He probably hoped that Will would run, that he could have his fun in private after Will had fled. Well…surprise. 

“I’m staying Frederick.” He crossed his arms, trying to hide the shaking that was starting in his hands. “I’m not going to interrupt your little experiment as long as you keep the cameras off. Cameras. All of them. Turn them off.” He took a long breath though his nose. “Let’s just, get this done.”

“Alright then,” Chilton singsonged. He typed a moment at his laptop, peering into the dark corners of the room beyond as he turned of the additional cameras that had certainly been primed for the show. 

“I’m going to talk us all through this experiment as necessary…though I imagine some of our purpose will be, ah, self-explanatory. Our good doctor is mic’d now and you know of course that he can hear our commentary as well. If we have any problems – we’ll improvise. Okaaay.” He bent to the mic again, an action that was fast making Will want to throttle him. “Let’s move that screen please!”  
_________________

The orderly stood between their line of sight and Hannibal to fold up the heavy screen. Will squinted into the darkness of the room. The projection had been paused on a mass of red pulp that Will did not want to decipher. It bathed the room in crimson, the white uniform of the orderly bloodly in the glare. Hannibal’s limp body was similarly awash in red. The slate blue jump suit had been removed to his hips, the thin undershirt the stretched over his chest rose and fell with each slow breath. His bare arms in their shirt-sleeves seemed terribly intimate. Will remembered watching the veins in Hannibal’s forearms move beneath his skin as he worked in the kitchen. He remembered thinking how exposed Hannibal had seemed with so little flesh on display, only a hint of the human body that was always armored in fabric and starch. 

Now he could see the pale underside of Hannibal’s biceps, the soft curled hair under his arms, the white scars that had been vicious Will’s gift to him. He was motionless in the onslaught of red save that slow rise of his chest. Will’s eyes followed that curve, traveled over the muscled softness of his stomach to the unbuttoned spread of his jumpsuit. A trail of hair darkened a line to his groin, to a thick shadow of curls…to the black pressure cuff that surrounded his cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving this week, so the next update will be a bit delayed. Hope to have another chapter for you by mid second week of June. In the meantime you can use your lovely imaginations. ;)


	4. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The “patients” at the hospital were nude often enough, basic human dignity exchanged for solo showers watched closely by the orderlies, by Chilton in all likelihood. Will wondered how many digital files Chilton kept of Hannibal, of himself, washing in the shower, toweling off, sleeping, hell… using the toilet. Pervy fucker. Son of a bitch.

A short, high gasp. That was all Will managed before he remembered Chilton’s leering watchfulness and struggled to control his expression. Hannibal, for his part, seemed unaffected by his exposure, a slight twitch of lip the only sign that he had registered Will’s unguarded sound. His cock was limp under the pressure of the tight cuff, jutting out from his body in the confines of stiff fabric. He was uncut, a deep red from the unyielding constriction. 

Will realized his own chest was heaving, pulling painfully, and looked down at his shoes with a forced swallow. When had his mouth become so dry?

“Okay then,” said a smug Dr. Chilton. “Part one of this little experiment is violent imagery without stimulation to measure the arousal response of the Doctor. Let’s start with something light shall we?”

Stark white light like a strobe appeared on the screen, making the room pulse with its intensity. Will squinted into the flashes. A body on the screen…no, not a body, a man, barely conscious and bound. An unseen assailant was blasting his body again and again with jolts of electricity. There was a brief pause in the assault as the man was given time to rest between torments, his jaw clenched, a barely audible hiss of air between his teeth. 

And then it all began again, and again…each jab filling the room with a burst of white light. The man was limp now, hardly a twitch as his body was flooded with current. God… the skin was burning, blackening, and Will felt sick, a slick nausea beginning to line his throat. 

Hannibal gave a small hum and calmly addressed Frederick through the glass, his eyes never leaving the pulsing screen.

“Dr. Chilton, I believe that we are making Will uncomfortable.” 

“Indeed?” said Chilton with raised eyebrows, turning to the pasty man at his side. 

“Why Mr. Graham, it seems like you are still the most interesting thing in this room. We need to find more visually inspiring fodder to turn our sadist’s thoughts from your own distracting presence.”

Will didn’t know whether to be more embarrassed by Hannibal sensing his discomfort, or by his decision to clearly point it out. Will made an impatient sound in the back of his throat, wishing in equal measure that Chilton would get on with it and that the whole nightmare would go away.

Chilton turned his amusement back toward the spectacle on the other side of the glass. 

“Barney, let’s go ahead and measure the Doctor’s, hmmm…‘charms’ for a change in size.” 

Frederick was oozing self-satisfaction, watching with narrowed eyes as the orderly who had remained in the corner walked with confident steps toward his bound patient. 

He pulled out a tape measure and leaned toward Hannibal’s body, eyes flickering apologetically between the face of his charge and the exposed cock. The end of the tape measure was pressed into the curls on Hannibal’s groin, the contact causing his stomach muscles to clench once and then relax. 

Will wondered how often Hannibal was touched beyond being strapped into the heavy canvas straightjacket. He remembered well how the stiff fabric blinded the skin beneath to touch, how even the brush of knuckles over his nape, mask attached to his face, made his skin shiver with the need for contact. Skin hunger; that was what Chilton had murmured with a smirk when he had watched Will’s body ache for contact. Inadvertent, but inescapable, that shifting toward another’s touch. 

The “patients” at the hospital were nude often enough, basic human dignity exchanged for solo showers watched closely by the orderlies, by Chilton in all likelihood. Will wondered how many digital files Frederick kept of Hannibal, of himself, washing in the shower, toweling off, sleeping, hell… using the toilet. Pervy fucker. Son of a bitch. 

Will remembered fighting not to touch himself during his many months of imprisonment in Dr. Chilton’s establishment. Knowing that even in the bathroom stall he was likely being watched.  
After 10 p.m., when the lights were finally dimmed – they were never completely turned off –  
Will had considered moving his hand under the blankets, touching his cock after months of being too ashamed, too nervous to masturbate under the eyes of god knows who. 

He had tucked toilet paper under his pillow, thinking that he could get off as quietly as possible, and then feign a stretch, reach under his pillow for the tissue to wipe himself off. 

And he had done it too. He couldn’t hold off any longer, his length laying stiff against his stomach, pulsing with his breath, hands fisting at his sides. He’d bit his lip and let his hand tug from base to tip, then dragged back his foreskin to touch the drop of moisture on his slit. One finger on his tip, his eye’s clenched shut with the force of sensation.

There was no way to stop it then. His body betrayed him, needy and sweating. 

He’d fisted himself hard, the sheet moving rhythmically down his body until it caught on his erection, on the dampness that dripped from his tip. He didn’t care anymore; he’d just wanted to get off. Opening his legs wide he thrust into his hand, head thrown back and mouth open in breathy gasps. He’d cum so hard he cried out, the sheet on the floor, body bowing off the bed, came onto his neck and down his heaving chest. 

Afterward he’d wanted to just fall asleep, his body exhausted, the muscles in his thighs jumping with the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Instead he’d remembered the cameras, the orderlies that had likely seen the whole show. He thought of Chilton in his office the next morning, delighted with the footage he’d find, pausing and rewinding. Will had turned crimson with the thought of the whole building watching his animal thrusting, his public orgasm.

Standing in the confines of the glass room, Will suddenly wished he could rip Chilton’s smug face right off his skull. Maybe just dig his thumbs into his windpipe? Will knew he looked murderous, but just now he sure didn’t give a fuck. 

“You get off on this stuff Frederick?” Will said loudly, enough force behind the question for all the occupants of the space to take notice. 

He saw Hannibal give a small smile, lips pursed in amusement. 

“You go home alone with your laptop and beat off?”

If Chilton was surprised by this outburst he didn’t show it, rounding slowly on his heel with a look of long-suffering displeasure. 

“Oh dear. You’ve got me there, Will. Yes, I never tire of looking at nude mental patients, my every waking moment is spent dreaming of new humiliations.” 

There was a distinct snicker from the direction of the orderly, and this time Frederick’s cheeks pinked. Barney likely knew just how many hidden cameras Chilton had posted about the place, knew that his mocking confession hit a little close to home. 

“If you can’t handle yourself professionally Barney, I’ll thank you to leave and find someone who can!” It was said with a bit more venom than was professionally necessary, and Will gave a small chuckle of his own, watching the maroon rise up the back of Chilton’s neck. 

The unimpressed orderly was still standing uncomfortably close to Hannibal, tape measure pressed tight against the Doctor’s groin, waiting to be cued for his measurement. He cleared his throat once, glancing back down at the tape. 

“There is no change in Dr. Lecter’s size, Dr. Chilton.”

“You really don’t need to refer to the patient using his honorific Barney, it’s simpering, unnecessary.” 

Barney seemed to share an amused glance with Hannibal, before turning a passive face to Frederick.

“You, yourself, refer to the patient as Doctor Lecter, sir.”

“Well…” Chilton sputtered, off balanced by his prior embarrassment and Barney’s cool logic. “We are, rather were, colleagues. It would be unseemly for me refer to Dr…the patient…by his first name.”

Frederick gave a dignified sniff, seemingly satisfied that he’d retained his authority.

Barney inclined his head in a motion that looked eerily like Hannibal’s own considering tilt. “More unseemly than strapping a blood pressure cuff to his penis Dr. Chilton?”

Will snorted from his corner of the little box, stifling his mirth to a quiet wheeze as Chilton pointed silently from Barney to the door.”

The orderly gave a long sigh, closing his eyes a moment to collect himself, before turning to go. He paused halfway to the door, stopping to look back at Hannibal. 

“Dr. Lecter, when you are finished in this room, I will assist you back to your cell.”

Hannibal remained silent but gave the orderly a wink that made Will smile, pleased that not all of Hannibal’s keepers took pleasure in torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I had way too much fun with this. Didn't know that Will was going to head down memory lane, but I'm sure glad he did! 
> 
> We've still got more to go, and I'll be just as surprised as you guys where the boys will end up. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Updates to come...*eyebrow waggling*


End file.
